“God damn it!” In pain and riding the edge of unconsciousness, he shook his head, and the room warped around him, the morphine making it hard to stay awake. “For once, will you just fucking listen to me? I left the military two years ago to join a special operations anti-terrorism task team. My cover’s been blown, and if I don’t get my ass out of this bed and as far away from Mass Gen as possible, I’m a dead man. If you don’t want to bury me in the family plot, help me or step aside. Either way, I’m leaving before anyone else gets hurt.”
For the first time in his life, Jamie saw a hint of fear cross his father’s features. “The gunmen—today—were they the terrorists you were after?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Could be the group we’re after. Could be completely unrelated.”
Samuel’s frown deepened. “Jesus Christ. How’s it possible you don’t know? One hundred and twenty-three people are dead, including Kosa—”
“Don’t,” Jamie growled, the anger swelling in his chest making his ribs ache. “You don’t get to say her name.”
He squeezed his lids closed, and his throat clogging with emotion, an unsavory taste rose to the back of his tongue as his last memory of Ko threatened to end him. Her brown eyes locked on his. Unblinking. Unseeing. Unalive.
His lungs constricted, and he couldn’t breathe. “I can’t talk about her right now,” he huffed, pressing his palm against his aching side. “Not with you.”
“Jamie—”
“Forget it.” Anger forced his eyes to reopen, but he refused to look at the man who’d done his best to come between him and his wife. “Go ahead and leave. I can do this on my own.”
“Your mother would never forgive me if I left you alone.”
“You never cared about her forgiveness before. Why start now?” For the first time, he wondered why she wasn’t at his bedside. “Where is she anyway?”
“London, she’s booked on a direct flight to Boston leaving in the morning.”
Relieved his mother was out of the country, Jamie yanked the IV out of the back of his hand. “Well, tell her not to bother. It’s not safe for her to be near me, and I won’t be here when she lands.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He hit his father with a weighted stare.
“Fine.” His shoulder’s rounding in defeat, Samuel rubbed his hand over his face, and when his arm fell back to his side, he looked older than Jamie could ever remember seeing him. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
Regardless of the years of resentment between them, relief flooded his system, and he hitched his chin toward the electronic tablet next to a tray of supplies on the bedside table. “Hand me my patient file. I need to see what I’m dealing with.”
Samuel snagged the device off the table, and with a press of his thumb, he unlocked the screen. “Here.”
Jamie took what he offered, and eyes feeling like they’d been sanded with eighty-grit paper, he scanned the notes. Not as bad as he thought. He’d lost a chunk off the bottom right quarter of his liver, and his gallbladder had been removed. No problem, livers regenerated, and gallbladders weren’t necessary.
Extraction of bullet fragments and repair to surrounding blood vessels and nerve tissue were standard operating procedure. No pun intended. Surgery performed by none other than the man himself.
Yeah, his father must have loved that. When he had the time to spare, slicing off pieces of Jamie had always been one of his favorite pastimes. While his weapon of choice had been words, a scalpel got the job done too.
As for his left knee, he didn’t recognize the name of the orthopedic surgeon who’d done the repair job. But if his father had called her in, she had to be the best Boston had to offer.
No surprises for post-surgical care. Monitoring for indicators of complication, including infection. Incision care and cleaning. Pain management via oral medication. And hospital convalescence of three to five days.
Fuck that. He didn’t have three to five days. Hell, he didn’t even have three to five hours. His hand shook as he gave the tablet back to his father. “Okay, here’s how we’re gonna do this.”
CHAPTERFOUR
Summer hitthe enter button on her phone’s tiny keyboard, sending her email to Mrs. Bloomsberry with a woosh and a prayer. At well past midnight, the owner of the nanny agency wouldn’t see the transfer request before morning, but she felt better knowing she’d done the right thing.
She couldn’t stay here. Not after John had tried to enter her room. To her knowledge, it was the first time he’d gone so far as to turn the handle on her door, but she intended to make sure it was his last.
Yes, Mrs. Wagner would be arriving home for the holidays at some point tomorrow, and he’d be on his best behavior for the next four weeks, but after that…she shuddered. No question, she couldn’t be alone in the same house with the creeper once the governor left to go back to Helena.
One month.
Should be enough time for Mrs. Bloomsberry to find her a position with a family who wanted to hire a nanny in the new year. If not, well, at least she’d be able to save a few dollars from her next two paychecks to give herself a bit of a buffer.
